Silences can get eerie. There is a thinning line between ease and eerie and if you ask him, he would say the silence was certainly eerie. Deafening. Maybe a footstep, swooshing of hands. Roaring laughter. Thinning giggle. Maybe a little pop after lipstick. Even blowing on nails to dry the polish.

It all can stood up defiantly and throw a spear in air which pierces the heart of silence and can make his smile a courage to see the day outside of the prison inside his mind. Gunning down the enemy. Throwing missiles on an enemy F-16. Checkmate the opponent.

But the silence is still present.

Omnipresent. In crowds. Opera, pool, food.

Her absence took the smile and something.

That something which is replaced by this eerie silence.


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